


Painter of the Knight

by robin_X3



Category: Great Pretender (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, And Laurent is a shameless prick, Blood Drinking, Consensual Sex, Creampie, First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Makoto is an awkward soybean, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multiple Orgasms, Smut, Spit As Lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:27:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27626788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robin_X3/pseuds/robin_X3
Summary: A poor knight-in-training, Makoto's first assignment is to kill the vampire Count Laurent who has been wreaking havoc into the elite social hierarchies. Too bad no one told him that Laurent is actually an un-killable, immortal vampire, or that Makoto is his virgin sacrifice.
Relationships: Edamura Makoto/Laurent Thierry
Comments: 59
Kudos: 446





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [RUThbtIan1810](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RUThbtIan1810) for giving me pointers with this! ilu <3

“‘ _It’s a simple task, you’re perfect for it, Edamura kun!_ ’ MY FOOT! This place is completely empty!!” Edamura screamed out loud. His voice carried over the bare fields, reverberating through the overgrown garden shrubs and the rusty fencing and wrought iron gates, its gilded tips shone brighter under the rays of the setting sun as if mocking him.

It had taken Makoto a week to get from his hometown, to the mayor’s office, where, after a lot of lobbying and sucking up, he finally got his first assignment. His Steed Acquisition Request having been denied, Makoto had to walk to his destination, which happened to be a towering castle smack dab in the middle of nowhere. Getting here on foot took him over a fortnight, and upon his arrival, it seemed that the place was deserted! Makoto smacked his forehead on the gate in frustration.

It was sunset and not even a single light was on inside the castle.

Just as Makoto thought so, one of the windows on the fourth storey of the tower to his right lit up. It was followed by a series of lamps in the overgrown garden to turn on, lighting a pathway that led to the castle.

Automated electric lights in such an ancient castle? Makoto was impressed. However, he’d still have to find a way to get the gates to open. He searched for any bells or buttons, but there was nothing of that sort in sight.

The gates swung inwards with a loud, rusty creak, as if listening to his thoughts, and Makoto wondered if the gate, like the lights, was also automated. He quelled the voice inside his head that told him to turn tail and run, and took a large breath to calm his nerves. He patted at his waist, feeling the comfort of the engraved wooden handle at his side, and set foot on the dirt path, heading for the main gate of the castle.

The heavy wooden door at the entrance lay ajar, and he stepped in with a “Sorry for the intrusion.” Whoever it was that had let him in, had poor social skills- the least they could do was welcome him at the gate! Makoto was no VIP, but such a giant place must have some guards or servants. But the inside of the castle was just as void of people, or any life forms for that matter, as the outside. The sun was at the horizon by now, and the faint crimson streaks of twilight lent an odd, ominous aura to the empty hallways.

Medieval-style torches illuminated a staircase at the far end of the massive ballroom, and he followed the light from the torches as a guide. Makoto felt eyes on his person, and he looked behind him, but the lights had gone out and he couldn’t even see the door he’d entered through. _Strange_. Surely, he would’ve heard a door as massive as that closing shut. He hadn’t even felt a draft. So why had the lamps gone out?

Shaking his head, Makoto pressed on- he was here on a mission.

The lamplit corridor led him to a dining hall with an enormous dining hall, and when Makoto approached it, he noticed the table laden with a banquet fit for a king. His mouth salivated at the rich, intoxicating smell that wafted over to him enticingly, and Makoto’s stomach growled in protest when he dared to think about turning away from the food.

When was the last time he’d eaten a full meal?

With a loud “Ah, curse this!” Makoto sat down on the second chair closest to him, and helped himself to generous servings of the dinner. “Mmm!” It tasted even better than it looked, and Makoto licked up the juices trickling out of the seared-to-perfection steak, groaning in delighted ecstasy.

“Glad to see you’re enjoying yourself, little bean.”

“Gah-ack!” Makoto choked on his food. Coughing to dislodge the food that had been plotting to enter the wrong pipe, Makoto attempted to stand up from his seat. It was only common courtesy for peasants and common-folk to show respect to royals and elites- and Makoto attempted to bend down into a bow of courtesy, but a hand on his shoulder pushed him back down on the seat.

“Sit down, sit down, I don’t **_bite_**.” The sultry voice whispered into Makoto’s ear, and he swallowed. He was suddenly very thirsty. “L-Laurent Thierry?”

“The one and only!” The owner of the voice finally appeared before him with a dramatic flair- a tall blond man dressed like the textbook example of Count Dracula, complete with a taupe colored 3-piece suit and frilly cravat. He took a seat on the table, long legs crossed across his knees as he looked down at Makoto with an unnatural sparkle in his steel-blue eyes. “What brings you here, little _soybean_?”

“Makoto Edamura, reporter in training at the Daily Trumpet. I was wondering if, as an advocate of suburbanization, you would like to answer a few questions about the emergence of industrialization and its effects on rural life…” Makoto trailed off as the blond leaned in too close for comfort. Not knowing where to look when his personal space was being invaded like this yet unable to look away from those captivating steel blue eyes, Makoto took a few shallow, shuddering breaths. After what seemed like hours but was no more than mere seconds, the count’s pale hand reached out towards Makoto, whose eyes went cross-eyed trying to keep track of his movements, and past him.

The blond lifted a glass of red wine to his lips, grinning at the expression of relief (disappointment) on Makoto’s face. “No need to be shy. Finish your meal and I’ll answer **_any_** questions you have.”

The man could make the simplest of sentences sound like sin, and as if scorched, Makoto looked away, forcing himself to focus on the meal at hand. Too hungry to care about consequences, Makoto resumed inhaling his food, resolute in his determination to eat enough to last him a week. Halfway through his meal, Makoto noticed how the count wasn’t eating along with him. “My lord, are you not hungry?”

The count swirled the glass in his hand, causing the crimson liquid to slosh around, and took a slow sip. “Mmn no. But I _am_ in the mood for some **_dessert_**.”

Makoto felt his heart go “DOKI!” and promptly stuffed a spoonful of mashed potatoes in his mouth before he said something super embarrassing. There goes his plan to plant some garlic in the Count’s meal. He’d have to resort to plan B.

All too soon, Makoto was done eating, and he didn’t have an excuse to avoid the heated gaze that had been leering at him all this time. Makoto wiped his hands on the napkins, wringing it in his hands, as he gathered up the courage to speak up.

Noticing his inner turmoil, Laurent got down from his perch and clapped his hands once, and all the dishes vanished into thin air.

“Wha-?”

“Telekinesis and teleportation. You know? Magic.” Makoto didn’t like the way Laurent spoke to him like he was explaining something simple to a 5-year-old child, but swallowed the curses at the tip of his tongue for his job.

“Come, let me give you a tour of my collection,” Laurent practically dragged Makoto around the castle, showing off his expansive collection of questionable art pieces and ancient books and artefacts. Things that easily exceeded centuries in age. Things that Makoto couldn’t focus on even if he wanted to- whether that was due to what he knew he had to do next, or due to the arm that was wrapped snugly around his waist in an affectionate embrace, he wasn’t sure.

“Here’s my _favorite_.”

Makoto snapped out of his thoughts and took stock of his surroundings: they were standing in a secluded section off the main hallway, so there wasn’t enough illumination to clearly see the picture Laurent was referring to. Makoto blinked to adjust his eyes, and as the image became clearer, Makoto felt himself heat up.

For there, on the framed canvas was immortalized an image of Makoto, minus all his clothing, his head thrown back in ecstasy, mouth open in a silent moan as he was being fucked into a red velvet-cushioned couch.

Makoto looked away, scandalized, and froze as he met eyes with Laurent, whose hungry gaze and gleaming, sharp canines breaking through his predatory smirk mirrored the image of him nailing Makoto to the couch in the picture.

_Makoto **knew** he shouldn’t have taken this mission._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to get this out there: I can't wait for the second season to finally air on Netflix!! Need more of my gay con-bois!!  
> Leave me a review/kudos/how dare you if you've read this far thanks. (*≧ω≦*)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my lovely (not)-beta, [RUThbtIan1810](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RUThbtIan1810) for the constant support and encouragement! And to all of you readers too for all the love! Enjoy~! <3

“Is that a sword in your pants or are you happy to see me?” Laurent grinned down at Makoto, who, in true flustered-Makoto Edamura fashion, panicked and drew his sword from the hidden sheath under his coat, and attacked.

“Feisty, aren’t we?” Sidestepping the jab easily, the count chuckled at the combination of embarrassed/angry flush on Makoto’s face. “The times sure have changed. It seems reporters these days believe that _‘The sword is mightier than the pen.’_ ”

“I’m _not_ a reporter!!” Makoto announced as he moved in without missing a beat, his attacks targeting all vital points, yet none of them seemed to land on his target. The count’s smirk grew more mischievous as he danced effortlessly around Makoto’s series of attacks, seemingly quite enjoying Makoto’s attempts at taking his life. Not only did he not draw a sword to counter Makoto’s attacks, or even try defend himself against them, he was also grinning as if it was one of the most entertaining performances he’d ever seen.

“Makes sense.” Laurent jumped over the next swipe, which turned out to be a feint, as Makoto chose the distraction to hit him with a tiny, ball-shaped pouch. It turned out to be a bomb, and exploded on impact, showering the count with silvery dust. 

“Finally!” Makoto cheered- he’d finally landed a hit on the slippery bastard. The weapon was one of his own inventions- a bomb filled with gunpowder and powdered silver- vampire’s weakness, a secret ingredient that The town alchemist- Kudoh, said was 100% guaranteed to take down any vampire. 

Now that Makoto had fulfilled his vow and slayed his target, he could finally go back home, claim his title of knight, and pay off his father’s debt....

“Is this how young'uns hit on each other these days? Glitter bombing each other?" The count appeared from the cloud of silver and smoke, dusting off the remnants from his elegant robes, appearing completely unscathed. Makoto’s jaw fell open. “ _What? How is he still alive?”_

“Hmm?” It seemed Makoto had said his thoughts out loud, drawing Laurent’s attention to his confusion. “Was that supposed to do something to me-a-ah-achoo!" He sniffled, wiping his snot on the puffy frills of his sleeves, like a gross, disobedient child. 

_‘Ew_ ,’ thought Makoto, and Laurent laughed at his expression. “Oh, a silver bomb! Very clever, little Edamame.” The blonde _asshole_ had the galls to _praise_ him, and Makoto flushed when his stomach did a weird somersault without his permission at the man's acknowledgement.

“Who sent you here, little bean?" Like flipping a switch, the blond's whole countenance changed from relaxed and taunting to stern, and dare Makoto think it, frightening: His blue eyes glowed with a reddish hue, no longer a veil to the bloodlust and vengeance that lurked in their depths, and Makoto shuddered, involuntarily taking a step backwards as his instincts screamed at him to run for his life.

Seemingly noticing his discomfort, the count blinked, drawing in his suffocating, overpowering aura. His eyes went back to their normal, steel-blue hue, and Makoto found he could breathe easy again. “I’m sorry, little soybean. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He smiled apologetically, catching the younger man off-guard with how genuinely regretful he looked. “Who threatened you to kill me?” He insisted, his tone gentle, reassuring.

“I came here of my own will!” Makoto declared, breaking out of his shock. “I am Makoto Edamura, a knight in training from Asakusa.” He raised his sword at Laurent, pointing the tip at the other man threateningly. “And I have vowed upon the crown that I shall slay you, Laurent Thierry, the evil vampire that haunts this kingdom and wants to overthrow our great King. I’ll be a hero, and become the greatest knight in the whole kingdom!”

“Aww,” The pompous piece of shit _coo-ed_ , clasping his hands together like little girls cooing over cute kittens frolicking in the fields. Before he could add something however, he had to jump somersaulting over Makoto’s head to evade the to-be knight's sudden lunge, landing gracefully on the windowsill of a large floor-to-ceiling mosaic glass window, and chuckled. “So cute!”

“I’m a dangerous assassin who’s come here to slay you!” The young knight in training yelled, a mix of exasperation and fury. “Don’t call me **_cute_ **!” Makoto charged at the window, putting his full body weight into his blade, breaking through the structure and forcing the vampire to come down from his perch. Some of the broken glass and shrapnel landed on him, piercing his skin and digging into his flesh, but Makoto winced and pressed on.

He didn’t have the luxury to let injuries stop him. Loathe as he was to take a life- be it human or vampire, he had no choice. He had to kill his target if he wanted the title, if he wanted a chance to save himself and his mother from the loan sharks.

“Careful, I don't want you to get hurt!" Laurent warned the reckless little knight, frowning at the way Makoto continued to press on with his persistent attacks amidst the shower of debris, carelessly endangering his own life in the process.

  
  


Forgetting his plan to be tactful and discreet, Makoto brought out his final hidden weapon- a wooden stake imbued with curses, and parried blows, weapon in both hands.

“Wow!” Laurent praised him _again_. He seemed to now be dancing his way through the rush of attacks, clapping his hands appreciatively as Makoto masterfully juggled between both weapons, now able to attack short-range with the stake, and long range with the sword. “You’re very skilled!”

“Just.stay.still!” Insulted at the way he was being mocked ( _because why else would a century old vampire care about a lowlife knight-in-training like him when he was trying to_ **_kill_ ** _him??)_ Makoto grew desperate. His lunges grew quicker, more forceful, more reckless- destroying the furniture around them, slashing through the antique paintings, carving up the arching pillars and decorated balustrades, slowly backing him into a corner. “I’m going to kill you!”

“And I’m going to kiss you.”

  
  


“AAAA!!” With a mighty roar, Makoto charged at Laurent, and…. he stabbed him, right in the heart. 

  
  


_He should’ve been able to see my attack coming..so why didn’t he dodge it?_

Slowly, the vampire reached his hand out, gripping the wooden handle of the stake, another reaching out to hold Makoto’s shoulder, “Careful, _Edamame_.”

  
  


It was then that Makoto realized where he was: they were standing on the landing of the wooden staircase, and Makoto’s flurry of attacks had made the structure so unstable, that if Makoto had taken even a step closer, he would’ve ended up free-falling all the way down to the ground.

  
  


“Did you get stabbed on purpose?” Makoto asked, perplexed. _Did you do that intentionally? For me? ...Why?_

“Of course,” Laurent spoke in a garbled voice, coughing out a mouthful of blood. Makoto's sword clattered to the ground as he let go of it in surprise and guilt. The sound of metal echoed in the silence of the empty hallways, now covered in dirt and debris from the destruction of the one-sided fight.

_He never intended to fight me..._

Remorseful, Makoto approached him with slow, unsure steps, reaching out to touch the vampire's shoulder. He couldn’t help it. This person, despite his annoying, downright scandalous advances, and his disdainful taunting, had intentionally got himself stabbed with a wooden stake, just to save his life.

He whispered something faintly, and Makoto tore his eyes away from the blood gushing out from the wound and bathing them both in the vampire’s cold blood. Trying his best to blink away the tears threatening to fall from his lashes, the black-haired squire kneeled beside the injured vampire, leaning in to hear him better.

Time seemed to slow down as Makoto watched, frozen on the spot, as the vampire licked a wet stripe across Makoto's cheek, lapping up the blood oozing out from a shallow cut, and grinned.

“How can I let my _betrothed_ fall anywhere except in love with me?”

  
  


“HAAHH?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no what'll happen to Laurent now!? (Dorime)
> 
> Confession time: I just wanted a premise to write some kinky vampire pwp, but then my brain said "HEEYYYY WANT SOME PLOT?"  
> This fic stands somewhere between 3-4 chapters long now. Sorry for the lack of smut yet again. (._.")


	3. Chapter 3

Blinking, Makoto opened his eyes and looked at his surroundings.

No longer was he in the dark dim corridor, surrounded by rubble and bathed in the vampire’s blood. Rather, he was now sitting in a very comfortable, very plush, red velvet couch, and his tired, battered body involuntarily eased deeper into the softness underneath him. An ancient, stone hearth burned warmly just a few feet away from him, and his sore, cold legs seeked out that heat, and, feeling a yawn coming, he stretched. 

Or tried to. 

He couldn’t. 

Why couldn’t he….?

Makoto looked at his hands.

They were trapped in shiny metal handcuffs.

Panicking, Makoto looked at his legs. Thankfully they were left free, which meant he could escape…

“Don’t think you can run away.” A distinct feminine voice drawled from somewhere ahead. Makoto squinted to see better- a dark haired, tan skinned woman dressed in butler garb stood at the doorway, arms crossed in front of her chest. “ I don’t want to have to touch your filthy body to incapacitate you again, so unless you know how to fly, you better stay put.” She advised(?) before walking away.

“Boss, he’s up.” She called to someone outside the door. 

"Thanks, Abbie.... Does he look scared? Angry?  _ Horny _ ? Did he ask for me?" 

The voices trailed away, Makoto strained his ears to hear the muffled conversation, but failed to grab more than a few stray words: witch,  _ curse _ ,  **kill** .

Welp!

That did NOT sound good. The black haired knight-to-be gulped and shuffled his hands, attempting to weasel out of the handcuffs. It proved to be quite difficult- for the handcuffs were made of quite sturdy material. Otherwise, his strength imbuement charm would’ve allowed him to break free of them easily. He folded his leg up to the couch, and tried to kick the joint apart. But even that didn’t seem to work

Why? Why did he have to get stuck in this mess? Get involved with a perverted old count with weird tastes in art?

Makoto tried again, pulling both legs up, and thanking his natural flexibility and agility, he tried harder to break his bonds.

Where was that blond jerk anyway? Showing him such an indecent painting and calling him his fiance when he’d never even seen him before, and then  _ licking  _ him? 

“What the hell!?” Makoto whispered to himself angrily, “who even licks people anyway?” And put him full body weight against the chain link on the handcuffs. 

Damn this. Damn Laurent, that conniving vampire bastard. Damn this stupid handcuff that won’t break despite his magic-enhancement. It’s like his magic wasn’t even working! Or could it be…...? What if Laurent had done something to him?

“Aww is poor little knight’s magic not working?” Another feminine voice cooed, and Makoto whipped to the doorway guiltily, like a child caught trying to sneak their hand into a cookie jar. “Um,” he answered helpfully, and pulled his legs down because he was pretty sure the things underneath his torn undergarments were something no lady would want to witness.

“Those handcuffs are curse cancelling. You’re a normal human now!” The woman in red clapped her hands excitedly. “What’s your name little boy?” 

“Makoto Edamura.” He replied, on his guard. However, no sooner had Makoto looked at the woman’s clear, purple orbs, that he felt his guard slipping. 

“Nice to meet you! The name’s Cynthia, I’m a witch.” Her eyes glinted, her voice a spell. “And what are you, little Edamame?” 

Knowing he should feel insulted, but feeling strangely too relaxed to muster up the energy to do so, Makoto replied, the relaxed haze that clouded his mind made him forget his cover of news reporter. 

“........I’m a Knight in Training from Asakusa.”

“Oh really? What a brave boy! ” She patted his hair like petting a small puppy, and Makoto felt his whole body loosen even more, as well as his tongue. 

  
  


So when she asked, “Tell me, little toy knight, what are you doing here?” he answered honestly, his sworn oath of secrecy forgotten.

He told her everything- from how he’d always wanted to be a knight, but how such a coveted position could only be bought by family name or money, none of which he possessed, so he had to work twice, no thrice as hard, to even be accepted to the program. He even told her how his pathetic father’s gambling habits had endangered his and his mother’s life, and how he had no choice but to take up this dangerous, life-threatening job of slaying the vampire that haunts the kingdom, to pay back the debts. Makoto sniffled back a sob, “And now I’m going to dieeeeeee.”

“Aww, so cute.” Then turning to the doorway, she screeched angrily. “HEY TRASH LORD, YOUR WIFE’S CRYING!” Like flipping a switch, she turned back to Makoto with a pleasant smile, “Don’t worry, that coward doesn’t have the spine to kill a bug, let alone the love of his pathetic immortal life.” 

The orange haired witch held up a little vial of purple, inky liquid to Makoto’s lips. “Open up.”

Sobbing so hard he was now hiccuping, Makoto wiped his eyes and complied, drinking the offered drink in one go.

And gagged.

“Ewww, what was that? Blended slugs and seaweed…..nnpmf?” Makoto had to stop talking as Cynthia pinched his nose, preventing him from throwing up.

“Just a teeny little potion, don’t worry Edamame.” She smiled benignly. “It’ll only help fight off the injuries and stress in your body, make you more relaxed.”

“You  **_drugged_ ** me??!!” Makoto yelled, the witch’s relaxing charm broken in lieu of his anger. “Come out, Laurent you bastard, let’s see how calm and compliant you find these fists!” Makoto shook his cuffed arms vaguely in the direction of the doorway, where he spotted a blonde mop of hair hiding behind the door frame.

“He didn’t want to.” Cynthia explained, and Makoto looked at her questioningly. He didn’t sense any ill intentions from her, and after a minute of hesitation, he decided to give her a chance to explain themselves. “Normally, his kiss would’ve done the trick, but you were too far gone.”

“What do you mean?” Makoto asked warily, not sure he would like the answer to that, but knowing he needed to know regardless.

“Did you get tricked into taking a strength enhancement charm, maybe from the King’s wizard?” 

“I wasn't tricked, I asked for it.” Makoto nodded his head in agreement, and Cynthia sighed. “No wonder the black magic’s effects are so strong. You were willing.”

“What black magic? It was a charm. I didn’t…” Makoto started defensively.

“No. It was actually a curse. A banned, taboo of a blood curse! Frankly, I’m surprised there still exists someone powerful enough to cast magic like that, without making blood sacrifices.”

“Blood sacrifices?”

“How do I explain this…” Cynthia trailed off, tapping her lip with an index finger. “For such a curse to be put into effect, one must sacrifice their family member, or a loved one, or a virgin.” She smiled then, eyes closed. “I can only guess which you are.”

“Are you calling me a virgin?!” Offended, Makoto lobbed a pillow at the door where he heard a snicker come from, nailing Laurent in the head. He smirked as the blonde dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Satisfied, Makoto turned his attention to the witch. “Tell me about the curse.”

“This blood curse, it’s an unforgivable, sinister curse. Any witch or wizard that performs this magic is immediately removed from the Wizard’s Association, and their Magic License confiscated.”

“That this person was able to do so without repercussions, must mean that the King had specifically instructed this kill.” Cynthia shook her head in disbelief, gently touching Makoto’s shoulder as if trying to comfort him.

“Makoto, you were a victim in the crossfire between Laurent and the King’s dispute. I’m sorry you had to face this.” Cynthia sounded genuinely regretful, and the raven felt a shudder run down his spine, realizing what a fool he had been to trust these people. They never cared about him. They were just using him to get to Laurent! “How.” Makoto gulped, his throat had dried up. “How would this curse affect me?”

“At first, you’d feel strong- stronger than any human. The spell is fuelled by your life force, you see, and the more you used it up, the more empty you would become, giving way for the curse to fill your vessel.” Cynthia looked at him in the eyes, squeezed his shoulder once, and let go. “You were a ticking time bomb- primed to self-destruct if you failed to kill Laurent, taking him along with you.”

Makoto gaped, unable to believe what he’d just heard. “No way, that wizard… he couldn’t have done that.”

“You’d be surprised what people are capable of, little boy.” She sounded more sad, resigned, than condescending.

“No, you don’t understand.” Makoto said, and looked up, blinking away angry tears. “That man is my father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That feeling when you want to write porn but you end up writing plot orz.  
> THANK YOU GUYS FOR THE LOVELY COMMENTS AND KUDOS AND BOOKMARKS AND SUBS ILU <3


	4. Chapter 4

“Did you tell him...?” Distressed and concerned frown marring his handsome face, clothes bloodied and covered in dust, hair in disarray- Laurent did not look like himself as he stopped his worried pacing to interrogate Cynthia the moment she stepped out of the lounge room where Makoto had been kept.

“It’s not my place to say.” Cynthia brushed past him dismissively, a little peeved that Laurent would make someone else do his dirty work even at a time like this.

“But he needs to know...”

Cynthia whirled around, pinning Laurent to the wall by the collar, “Why don’t you stop cowering here like a pathetic, mopey coward, go into that room and tell him what needs to be done, face to face?”

“I don’t want to hurt him.” Laurent couldn’t meet her gaze.

“Hah. Hahahaha!” Cynthia let him go in lieu of wiping tears from the corners of her eyes. “Since when are you such a sentimental sap, Laurent?”

In response, Laurent pouted, and looked away. “I’m not.” 

“Sure you aren’t. Lovestruck puppy.” She patted him on the shoulder once, encouragingly, and stepped away. “The potion I gave him is just going to keep the worst side effects at bay.” She parted with these words hanging in the air: "You know better than me what happens if you leave the curse untreated.”

* * *

“What’s the update on our assassin?”

“It appears the bomb is now critical.”

“How much longer?” The wrinkly hand with its fingers adorned with too many gold-rings sloshed the wine in the glass, and took a satisfied sip. 

“Not much. The trackers stopped working once he set foot into the castle but,” the man in the veil pulled up a magical image of a gauge on air, which glowed an ominous red at the mark that displayed- ‘curse energy level: full’. “It’s just a matter of time until he explodes. Laurent Thierry will be a problem to your highness no more.”

“You’re a heartless bastard, Oz. Sacrificing your cute  _ virgin  _ son like that.”

“I’m but a loyal pawn to you my lord.”

* * *

The hearth burned warmly, casting its golden light throughout the room, yet Makoto found himself shivering where he sat on the couch. Attempting to scoot closer only resulted in him toppling off the couch, and he hit the carpeted floor with a loud thud. No pain registered, only cold- freezing, blood-chilling frost seemed to be filling his body. With teeth chattering uncontrollably, as Makoto crawled steadily towards the fire, he felt like he would never feel warmth again.

So focused he was in reaching the fire, that the sudden touch on his shoulder startled him greatly. He yelped.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. It’s me.”

Laurent crouched down, and looked at the couch, then at Makoto, took in the visible shudders wracking the smaller man’s frame with concerned eyes. “What are you doing down here, Edamame?”

“...cold.” Makoto barely whispered through chattering teeth, and only then did it register to Laurent how utterly cold the man was to the touch. His constitution as a vampire meant he was impervious to harsh weather conditions, so Makoto’s unnaturally cold frame hadn’t raised any hackles for him before it had been brought to his attention. 

He had underestimated the curse. There was no time to waste.

“Hup!” Laurent lifted Makoto into his arms without warning, and the smaller man clung to him, disoriented at the sudden movement. 

Since his arms were now occupied holding his precious protectively to his chest, the vampire used a magic gesture with his fingers, levitating the couch, and planted it right in front of the fireplace. Ever so gently, Laurent laid him down on the couch, and crouched on the floor in front of him.

“I didn’t want it to be like this.” Sighing, he reached out, cradling the smaller man’s face in the palm of his hands. He brushed his fingers against the skin at the back of his ears, causing him to shiver. He flushed at the contact, and at the contrasting heat of their skins- some color returning to his pale, blue lips. Laurent’s fingers travelled past his cheeks- mapping the outline of his beloved’s features with his fingers adoringly, apologetically.

Perhaps sensing his feelings, or perhaps chasing after the faint heat emanating from the magical being, Makoto nuzzled his face into Laurent’s palm. Delirious, with his eyes closed and panting slightly, the raven opened his mouth and licked the thumb tracing his lower lip. Eagerly, he drew Laurent’s thumb into his mouth. Without hesitation, or perhaps not even realizing his own actions, Makoto sucked on the digit, coating it with his saliva.

Before his control snapped, and before he did something that he’d regret, Laurent withdrew his thumb from Makoto’s mouth, causing the youth to whine disappointedly, and chase after the retreating hand.

“Edamame, look at me.” Holding his chin firmly between his thumb and index, Laurent tugged Makoto’s face toward himself, and forced him to open his eyes, to look at him. However, clouded over with pain, Makoto’s eyes were bleary and unseeing.

“Tsk.” Laurent removed his hand from the small of Makoto’s back, and started to take off his not-quite-knight-garb. As he tore the already tattered garments from the smaller man’s frame, he met little resistance- Makoto laid on the couch, cuffed arms thrown above his head and quietly panting, allowing Laurent to strip him bare. 

Anger, raw, roiling anger bubbled up in Laurent’s heart as his hands revealed the many blue and purple bruises on Makoto’s body, the faded cuts and nasty scars that marred the youth’s skin. Hands shaking with rage, Laurent struggled to rein in his wrath, and his carefully controlled magic went haywire- billowing about him like thick, heavy whips.  _ How dare they hurt Makoto? How dare they endanger him? How dare they lay their hands on his precious..? _

Soft, rough hands gripped his fists, breaking him out of his malicious thoughts, and Laurent looked down to see Makoto’s hands on his own. The cold hands guided him upwards, and Laurent followed them, smoothing past the curve of Makoto’s waist, up over his stomach, and stopping at the collarbone. 

There was a mark there- the patch of skin looked scorched, and upon closer inspection, Laurent noticed the circular, twisted sigil of the King, imbued with curse magic.  _ This must be where they injected the curse into him,  _ Laurent thought as he touched the bruised skin. 

That was when he felt it: Makoto’s pulse was fluttering irregularly, his chest heaving like he was having trouble breathing, like the air rushing past his lungs wasn’t enough to satisfy his body as it worked double to sustain his life as well as the curse that fed on him, growing stronger every second.

Steeling himself, and making sure Makoto could see his movement, giving him ample time to pull away, Laurent slowly, ever so softly, touched his lips to Makoto’s in a tender kiss.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYSSS YOU'RE ALL SO NICE TO ME I CAN'T EVEN *sobs messily* ILU all SO MUCH! Thanks for all the love!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm too tired to read through and edit this chapter, and I've kept y'all hanging for too long. So here you go! Have fun!

_With tired legs, little Makoto trudged up the steep hill. Just a little more, and he’d be home, sweet home._

_He saw the smoke slowly swirling upwards from the chimney, and smiled gleefully. “Mom’s home!” Earlier fatigue forgotten, Makoto sprinted down the hill, tumbling and almost tripping a few times, yet not slowing down._

_Earlier, he had been so scared._

_He shouldn’t have let go of mother’s hand at the bazaar._

_He shouldn’t have gotten distracted by the Prince’s fancy carriage, by the crowd surrounding the pretty bride and groom as they passed by the bazaar. They looked so beautiful and happy, Makoto just couldn’t help but want to get a closer look._

_“I wanna get married to a prince too!” He had said to his mother._

_But then he had looked back, and his mother wasn’t there. He’d panicked a little, and had even tried retracing his steps to where he’d last seen his mother._

_But she wasn’t there either._

_Huddling down, knees drawn to his chest, Makoto shuddered as tears gathered in his eyes._

_But before he’d even shed the first drop of tear, a little ball of light appeared before him. It boop-ed him on the nose, drawing his attention._

_Despite being the color of a blood moon, the glowing orb oozed warmth and comfort, and floated in front of him in a hypnotizing dance- bouncing around like an excited ball, then swinging like a pendulum, then whooshing up a tornado around Makoto, causing a cloud of dust to whip his clothes about him. It had been like a playful toy, as if telling him- “Play with me!” It had snapped Makoto out of his sadness, and had caused him to giggle._

_He’d trailed after it then, following it out of the bazar, all through the dirt road, up the little hill that had looked awfully familiar to the one beside his house._

_And now he was standing at the doorstep of his home!_

_“I’m home!” Makoto announced, kicking off his shoes and pattering into the kitchen. “Mom?”_

_“She’s not here yet.” A pleasant voice responded from outside the kitchen window._

_“Who are you?” Makoto asked carefully._

_“I’m... a friend.”_

_Eyeing the orb that had led him home as it floated around the handsome stranger, Makoto questioned, “Well then, why are you standing outside?”_

_“I can’t come in unless I’m welcomed.” The blonde sounded upset about his predicament._

_“Come in then.” Makoto reached up on his tiptoes and opened the backdoor, allowing the man to enter his home. “Welcome to the Edamura household. I’m Makoto Edamura.”_

_The tall blonde crouched to Makoto’s height and grinned, who got distracted by his carmine eyes and pointed canines. “You can call me Laurent.”_

_“Are you a prince?”_

_“Pff hahahaha.” Laurent chuckled, ruffling Makoto’s hair. “Why do you say that?”_

_“I saw the prince at the bazaar today.” Makoto explained, gesturing at the man’s elaborate, elegant clothing- complete with flowy robes and frilly cravats, then at his own shabby, dusty garments. “You look rich. And… “ the boy made a show of looking the much taller adult up and down judgmentally, “You’re prettier than him.”_

_“Aww, really now?” Laurent pinched the boy’s cheeks, and conjured an ice cream and spoon from thin air, giving it to the child, who accepted it with a happy squeal, digging in without question (or thanks). “And what if I said I was?”_

_“Hmm,” Makoto devoured the ice cream in seconds, and licked the spoon clean off the ice cream. He gave a satisfied burp. “Then I guess I’ll marry you.”_

_The blond blushed despite himself. “Aren’t you too young to be saying things like that you little twerp?”_

_“Nope. I’m 5!” Makoto raised 4 fingers up for Laurent to see, then extended the pinky to him. “So, promise?”_

_“It’s a promise.”_

* * *

Makoto felt warmth around him, and cuddled closer to the source of heat. His ears picked up the erratic thudding of a heart- it sounded tense, and subconsciously, he tried to comfort the person by throwing his arms around their shoulders, as if trying to hug them. Despite how badly he shook, despite how cold and lifeless his limbs felt, he couldn’t help the urge to comfort the person holding him so lovingly, so protectively, couldn’t help but want to calm that person’s worried thoughts. 

The knight felt himself be laid down on a soft surface, instantly missing the source of reassuring warmth, and whined. The hand returned, caressing his ears, his face gently, and the sensation caused him to hum, pleased. 

_“I didn’t want it to be like this.”_

Makoto recognized that voice- he’d know it anywhere. He’d been dreaming of that voice ever since he’d first met the other, ever since they’d made that childhood promise- it was Laurent. 

But why did he sound so….. _sad_?

Why did it matter to him?

Makoto’s thoughts were in disarray- a part of him wanted to embrace Laurent.

But another part of him, a part that he couldn’t recognize, told him that the vampire was a traitor, a vicious monster, one that needed to be slayed.

The strain on his mind was reflected on his body- as his sane mind battled the invasive ideas battled planted in his head, his frame shook, goosebumps rising across his flesh.

A stray emotion entered his mind then- _fear_.

Fear that Laurent was going to move away, going to abandon him all over again- and he latched on to the hand, unwilling to part.

Desperate to connect with him, to want to tell him ‘Don’t go. Stay with me,’ but unable to speak, Makoto did the one thing he could at the moment: He kissed the hand. Parting his lips, Makoto licked the thumb, and taking it into his mouth, he sucked on it. The vampire’s scent, his aura, poured into him through that simple action, and seemed to ease the pain.

He heard the faint groan from the man beside him, and, encouraged, he sucked harder.

However, the hand moved away, and he complained, whimpering at the loss, chasing after it unsuccessfully.

_“Edamame, look at me.”_

Ah, he was speaking to him again. He tried to obey the command, he really did- but despite his best efforts to open his eyes and see the other, all Makoto could see was darkness.

_“Tsk.”_

Makoto felt hands on his person, slowly removing clothes from his clammy, sweat-soaked skin. Cutting through the pain, the gentle warmth of those caring hands registered in his mind, and he stopped resisting altogether.

The anger, pure, unfiltered rage emanating from the vampire bled through his cloudy consciousness, and fighting through the haze of pain he reached out, grasping on to Laurent’s arm. _‘I’m here.’_

He guided the hand to his figure, placing it on his pelvis, up his torso, feeling the warmth from the man’s hands seep into his cold skin. _‘I’m alive.’_

He brushed the hand past his heart, hoping Laurent was able to sense how hard it’s beating, for him _. ‘I’m with you.’_

He tucked the hand at the crook of his neck, placing it at his pulse. _‘I’m yours.’_

As if accepting his invitation, Laurent ducked in, and kissed him.

Heat blossomed where their lips touched.

Makoto felt warmth flood through him like a river breaking free from a dam, filling his veins, settling into his bones. Coursing through his body and reaching the tips of his fingers and toes- the heat from the kiss chased out the frost from his body, lifted the veil off his mind, leaving behind nothing but a warm, pleasant buzz in its wake.

It seemed to wake Makoto up from whatever trance the curse had put him in- he regained his full consciousness, his senses, free reign of his own thoughts, no longer constricted and manipulated by dark magic. Makoto finally felt alive, and not like he wasn’t a mere puppet whose body and actions weren’t his own.

So overcome he was by the realization, that he’d nearly forgotten where he was. It was only when Laurent deepened the kiss that Makoto remembered.

_“Oh!”_ Makoto gasped, and Laurent took the chance to slip his tongue in. Makoto tasted blood- he was pretty sure he wasn’t injured. _Did he bite Laurent? Was the vampire injured?_

The vampire’s sweet essence flowed past his tongue, lighting his senses on fire. Cuffed hands jerked and shot up, unsure whether to push the blond off of him, or pull him closer- but when Laurent’s tongue massaged his own, swirling around his in a passionate dance, Makoto’s fingers clutched at Laurent’s collar and dragged him closer wantonly.

Laurent moved apart first, causing Makoto to whine and open his eyes into a glare, directed at the guilty looking vampire.

“I’m sorry..” Laurent started, but Makoto interrupted him.

Makoto shook his bound hands at him. “Uncuff me.”

“But you’re still..”

“Uncuff.me.”

Laurent snapped his fingers, causing the handcuffs to fall apart with a small click.

Makoto rubbed the chafed skin on his hands, blood returning to them as the bonds were lifted. He stretched then, aching joints popping satisfactorily, and sighed. “My Lord,” he started, and Laurent felt his heart sink in his chest: _Makoto was reverting back to formal speech again. He was preparing to distance himself._ “You left me.”

“I had to. I couldn’t risk you getting hurt.”

“You stopped coming over altogether! No warnings, no letters.” He was met with an incredulous look, and a disappointed sigh. “I thought you were dead.”

“I’m sorry, Edamame, I should’ve..”

“You should’ve kept in touch. But no, you had to go on this holy crusade, to free the people from the greedy king.

“I know I was too small to understand, too young to help. I was a liability.”

“No you don’t understand.”

“I do. I’m but a mere human. And you’re an immortal vampire, my Lord. I understand all this, but..” Makoto looked at him with hurt in his eyes. “You _promised_ me.”

It was Laurent’s turn to sigh now. “You were a child! You didn’t know what you were getting into.” Laurent brushed his hair back, shaking his head. “I thought I’d distance myself, let you grow into your own person.” The vampire looked away, biting his lips in consternation. “I couldn’t force you to come into my world. It’s not fair…”

The younger man’s fingers came up to hold Laurent’s chin, making him meet his eyes. “What isn’t fair is you deciding for me what I want.”

“You did always want to be a knight.” The blond gave a wry, mirthless laugh.

“You think I wanted this?” Makoto snapped angrily. “To be brainwashed, my precious childhood memories of you erased, replaced with **_hatred_ **?”

“You can hate me. You have every right to… what are you doing?”

Laurent reached out, but it was too late- Makoto took the sharp edge of the broken handcuffs, and stabbed himself on the neck, just above his pulse. Blood started trickling out of the cut, enticing, enchanting, and Laurent licked his lips, fighting the urge to drink.

“Madam Cynthia said my curse was too far gone. Your kiss cut through the brainwash, but I can still feel the darkness inside me, wanting to break free, wanting to consume everything.” Makoto bared his neck, bringing attention to the glistening crimson on his pulse-point.

“If I do this,” Laurent’s throat was parched, his instincts screaming at him for ignoring the feast before him, saliva pooling in his mouth. “If I drink from you now, make this blood pact, you will become my familiar for eternity.”

“What made you think I’d say no, my Lord?”

A hearty chuckle broke through the suffocating silence of the room, as Laurent laughed, relieved that Makoto accepted. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if Makoto denied this, there was no other way to dispel the curse, and Makoto would’ve been dead in under 24 hours.

“This will sting a little.” Laurent warned, before he dived in, latching his canines onto Makoto’s neck.

“Ah-Mmh.” Pain registered first as his skin was punctured deeper than the shallow cut he’d made on himself out of spite, but then something else replaced that feeling. As the vampire sucked his lifeblood out, taking the essence of the black magic along with it, Makoto felt his body respond to the vampire’s _allure_. It was like a chain reaction had been set off in him- coupled with his long time attraction towards the vampire, as well as the vampire’s allure- which was a certain blood magic that allowed vampires to drink freely from their victims willingly- Makoto felt like he was on fire.

Heat erupted at the pit of his stomach, coiling, spreading throughout his body, arousal hot in its wake. Body twitching at the sensory overload, Makoto shook, his hands reaching out to grasp the source of this borderline pain-pleasure, and gripping Laurent’s shoulders.

As Laurent continued to drink, Makoto flushed at the sensation of his cock swelling to fullness, filling with blood, aching, begging to be touched. He whined, nails digging into the vampire’s shoulders as the curse was lifted, pleasure settling into his nerves, and he shifted, hips jerking involuntarily as his abandoned member twitched for attention. 

Noticing his needs, one of Laurent’s hands meandered down, feather light fingers gently brushing against the tip. Makoto jerked violently, hissing at the contact, which wasn’t enough. “M-my Lord,” He gasped, pulling Laurent closer, and felt the couch dip as Laurent climbed up on top, straddling him.

The suction returned, harder and more intense than before, pleasure rising in tandem. Makoto’s toes curled as heat permeated from every point of contact between the two of them, electricity buzzing at the smallest friction, and when Laurent gripped the raven’s member in his hands, dragging his hot hand against the engorged flesh in a languid motion, it caused Makoto to come undone, the count’s name spilling from his lips as orgasm tears through him. _“Laurent!”_

Slow, gentle touches- on his cheeks, along the line of his waist, stirs him to consciousness as he comes down from his high, and as the pleasant buzzing in his head ebbs away, Makoto notices Laurent’s smug smile as he gazes down at him. 

“What?” He says, suddenly self conscious- while the man above him was fully dressed in his fancy, overbearing clothing, Makoto lay splayed underneath him, as naked as the day he was born. 

“You finally said my name.” The vampire’s smile is contagious, and Makoto finds himself grinning too. 

The grin turns mischievous, “I apologize for overstepping my boundaries, my Lord.”

“Noo don’t be like that,” Laurent whines, hugging Makoto, who returns the hug awkwardly, until he feels something stiff poking at his stomach. “Say my name.”

“Um, my lord.”

The hugging becomes a tighter embrace, as Laurent draws Makoto closer to himself, sniffing at his hair, his nape. “You smell so good.” He whispers into Makoto’s ears, licking at the outer shell, causing him to shiver. “Say my name, Edamame.” The vampire’s voice is huskier than usual, deeper with want, and Makoto shudders at the realization that it is him that is causing such a reaction. It is Makoto causing the usually calm and composed Laurent to lose his composure like this.

Impatient and needy, Laurent grinds his hips down against Makoto’s languidly, causing him to gasp.

“My Lord, I.. Hnngh, I just came..” Makoto complains, exhaustion dripping from his voice.

Laurent, however, pays no attention to Makoto’s insistence, continuing to grind their hips together hotly, the friction unwittingly bringing Makoto’s arousal back to life. The raven’s heavy, tired lashes fall shut as desire surges through him again, lazily licking pleasure up his spine with each impatient drag of Laurent’s hips.

There are fingers at his lips, demanding entrance, and Makoto obliges, opening his mouth to allow Laurent’s fingers to enter. The fingers are hot, playful as they massage the palette of his mouth, pressing down on his tongue, collecting the saliva that pools there as Makoto’s body is filled with shame, with want, at Laurent’s obscene, demanding actions.

The fingers leave his mouth with a wet, obscene “pop” and Makoto flushes at the vulgar sound, until he feels strong hands part his legs, and the same saliva-slicked fingers poking at his entrance. Frightened and tense, Makoto’s eyes snap open, and he attempts to sit up. Makoto has never even masturbated by himself, let alone played with his asshole. He wants to warn Laurent- that he is scared, that he isn’t ready, that he doesn’t know what he’s doing here, being devoured by one the world’s most powerful beings.

"W-wait.."

A single index enters him without warning, and Makoto’s head falls back, eyes closing as he groans at the unexpected, unwelcome intrusion. _It shouldn’t feel this good,_ Makoto thinks, _it should hurt._ But logic escapes him as Laurent massages his walls expertly, long fingers reaching deep into Makoto in a way he’s never even imagined, let alone experienced. 

“Ahnngh,” Makoto groans when the exploring fingers press on a particular spot that causes stars to erupt at the back of his eyelids, causes his balls to clench and his cock to swell and pulse with desire. 

“Found it.” Laurent’s chuckle is dark, sinister, and Makoto shudders at the hint of promise, of punishment.

The finger leaves him then, but is joined by another, and Makoto’s hands shoot up, scrambling for purchase, grabbing at Laurent’s head, fingers tangling in his hair when both fingers press down at his prostate. The pressure is amazing and bruising at the same time, and Makoto doesn’t even realize when two fingers become three, panting and trembling, lost to the world as Laurent expertly scissors his fingers, expanding Makoto’s walls in preparation for more.

“More..” Makoto whines, “Please, my Lord.”

Vengeful fingers leave his hole, and Makoto is brought close to tears at the loss. “Noo.. OHHHH!” His whine turns into a loud, drawn out groan as Laurent enters him, his thick cock filling Makoto’s slick, ready hole in one thrust.

Purposeful and persistent, Laurent’s thrusts are brutal as he fucks Makoto, overwhelming the smaller man with the intensity of his assault on his abused asshole. 

“..my name.”

Laurent is saying something, but Makoto is too far gone to piece together the words, too drunk on the pleasure to pay attention. 

Laurent slows down then, reducing the pace of his movement when he notices Makoto’s lack of response. “Edamameee..” He slurs, taking Makoto’s face into his hands, caressing his cheeks gently to stir him to consciousness. 

“Hmm?” The raven’s dark lashes flutter open. His irises are blown so wide the brown in his eyes are thin lines, and there’s tears at the corners of his lashes. Laurent wipes them away with his thumb, replacing them with his lips as he kisses the corner of his eyes, the tip of his nose, his chin, and Makoto sighs as he gets closer to his lips but doesn’t- teasing him, leaving him hanging- both with the kisses and the slow sex.

“Mmmore.” He whines

“You have to say my name, Edamame.” Laurent demands, slapping his hips forward in a sudden, sharp thrust. It rips a keen low from the back of Makoto’s throat, which then turns into a sad whine as Laurent reduces his pace back again to a slow, torturous, gyrating motion- teasing, at the edges of possibilities, on the verge of becoming more. “Tell me- who I am to you? Who am I, Edamame?”

“You’re… ah..annoying.” 

The count chuckles then- in all his life, and he’d had _centuries_ under his belt- no one ever dared to call him _‘annoying_ ,’ and before he knows it, he’s shaking with laughter, a deep rumble that starts at his chest and travels throughout his frame. The vibration is passed to Makoto through their connected bodies, sending a pleasant tingle up his spine, causing his eyes to roll back. _“Laurent!”_

It is when the man above him suddenly pulls out that Makoto whines, legs moving up to wrap around Laurent’s waist, to hold him there in a vice grip. Even as he shakes with the effort, he doesn’t let go, opening his eyes to glare murder at Laurent, which is vastly undermined by the red-stained cheeks and kiss marks marring his skin.

The blond laughs, patting his head like he did when he was younger. “You said it again! Good boy!” 

The praise makes Makoto flush darker, if that was even possible. Unable to resist, Laurent kisses the raven, who kisses him back, just as eagerly, just as urgently. The kiss tastes like iron, Makoto notes at the back of his mind- like blood, and power, and warmth, and Makoto feels like he’s drowning again, never to resurface, and he finds that he doesn’t care this time.

Deeper, faster, Laurent’s hips set up a rhythm, pounding into Makoto so hard he sees stars every time the blond brushes against his prostate, causing him to arch his back, and he covers his mouth with his fingers as shameful sounds threaten to spill out of him, biting them to keep himself afloat.

“Uh uh.” Laurent tuts, and bends down to nip at Makoto’s earlobe, having discovered earlier that he’s sensitive there. “Let me hear you.” He pulls Makoto’s fingers from his mouth, kissing them, and holds them in his own, interlacing their fingers affectionately. “I love you.”

Maybe it’s the declaration of love, or maybe it’s the way Laurent digs into Makoto’s prostate that Makoto fears- any deeper and he could feel him all the way in the back of his throat, and harder and he would rip him apart, any better and Makoto would choke with Laurent’s name on his lips. 

Maybe it's all of the above. Or maybe it’s the realization that he loves him too. The raven’s body goes taut, like a coiled spring for a minute, and then he jerks violently, convulsing as a wave of pleasure stronger than ever before sweeps him up. A jumbled mess of sensations, of emotions, and Makoto is half-sobbing, half-moaning, and he comes undone in Laurent’s arms, chanting his name over and over again. “L-laurent, _Laurent_ . **_Laurent!”_ **

He feels slick inside him, hot and sticky and messy and it’s filling him up, and Makoto groans as he realizes it was the feeling of Laurent coming inside him, Laurent’s seed filling the deepest parts of him, and Makoto’s mind goes blank, his cock twitching emptily, spent and exhausted, and with a final, clear spurt of release, Makoto passes out in Laurent’s embrace.

* * *

It’s daylight by the time Makoto stirs again, and for a moment, he’s disoriented, confused about his surroundings. His movements are restricted, and he has a split-second of panic as he remembers being tortured, being brainwashed, being forced to fight Laurent- and then he looks up, and the golden light of the sun that bathes the person sleeping splayed atop him carelessly in an ethereal glow brings him out of his panic attack.

“It’s alright.” He tells himself, and settles down into the bed, reassuring himself that he’s not trapped in that nightmare anymore. That he’s safe now.

“Mmm, it’s more than alright.” Laurent pecks him gently on the lips, opening his eyes, clear blue shining down on him with such intense conviction, such intimate adoration, that Makoto has to look away. “It’s perfect.”

“My asshole would say otherwise.” Makoto quips, not even needing to pretend to be in pain when he tries to stretch and winces at the soreness.

“I needed to be ah, _thorough_ , to drive out the curse.” Laurent goes for confidence but ends up sounding sheepish.

“That sounds like the plot of some very badly written pornography.”

Laurent shrugs and dives in for a passionate, toe-curling, breath-stealing kiss, causing Makoto’s mind to go blank. _It’s not_ **_that_ ** _bad,_ Makoto thinks, as he returns the kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (owo)"  
> It's finally over! Thanks for reading everyone! Leave me a review because I love reading them more than I like torturing Edamame. Teehee <3


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